Of Guilt And Budweiser
by KJ Holland
Summary: If there was one thing Sebastian never allowed himself to feel, it was guilt. So why was he at Scandals, drinking his night away when he should be looking to score? And why couldn't he get a certain blue-eyed boy out of his mind? Takes place shortly after "Michael."


**Title: **Of Guilt And Budweiser

**Author: **KJ Holland

**Rating: **M (for language and slight smuttiness)

**Summary: **If there was one thing Sebastian never allowed himself to feel, it was guilt. So why was he at Scandals, drinking his night away when he should be looking to score? And why couldn't he get a certain blue-eyed boy out of his mind?

**Author's Note: **What can I say? I love me some Sebastian and love analyzing the motivations behind the character's actions. This takes place shortly after Michael.

* * *

Sebastian didn't know what he was doing here. Well, he _did_ but at the same time he didn't, if that made any sense at all. Scandals was the place he came to for drinks, dancing, and finding hot men to shamelessly fuck and then chuck.

That was familiar territory.

Normally, in the act of scoping out his flavor of the night (and maybe daytime if he was especially good in bed), Sebastian avoided consuming too much alcohol. The last thing he wanted was for his judgement to be cloudy and in a beer-driven haze end up screwing a guy that was not even close to his type.

Like Hummel. Fucking Hummel.

Sebastian snorted as he downed the last of his Budweiser. Who the hell did Gay Face think he was? First, he openly challenged Smythe (as if _he _was a challenge) in his pursuit of Blaine Anderson's hot ass. Then he insulted Sebastian's hair, which was a serious red flag.

_"I have sexy fucking hair," _Sebastian mused, running a hand through his hair, winking at the twink at the end of the bar.

But then he had the _audacity _to just...ugh! He needed to stop thinking about it. Sebastian signaled to the bartender to fetch him another beer. Immediately, the boy popped the lid, wrapping his lips around the top of the bottle and downing nearly half of the alcoholic beverage in two gulps. Sighing, Sebastian scoped the scene again, zoning in on a hot piece of ass at his 10' o clock. This guy had the perfect ass, Sebastian thought. It was supple, round, begging for a pounding. His cock twitched at the thought of bending this nameless man over and fucking him senseless, slapping his ass until it turned red.

He needed a distraction. He needed to stop thinking about the incident.

Shit.

And now he was thinking about it again. Sebastian internally groaned, cursing the fact that he wasn't a sociopath. At least they never felt _guilty_ about anything. And _that _was what had been plaguing Sebastian's mind. Guilt. Though he would never admit it, if he could turn back time, he never would have put rock salt in that slushie. Shoot, he would have never even conceived the idea of throwing said slushie on anyone. Not even Hummel.

Fucking Hummel.

Why did the hurt, angry look in the boy's eyes have to linger at the edges of his mind? Sebastian had turned around as he and the rest of the Warblers (some fucking friends they were) were supposed to be fleeing the scene. He had turned around out of gross curiosity. He hadn't meant to hit Blaine. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. No, that slushie was meant for Ku-_Hummel._

_"His name is Hummel," _Sebastian corrected himself.

But even if it was meant for Hummel, it wasn't meant to hit him in the face. No, that slushie's mission had been to ruin that prissy boy's clothes, something Sebastian could tell the boy greatly cared about. But no, Blaine Fucking Idiot Anderson had to be all brave and jump in front of Kurt like he was some damsel in distress and receive an eye full of tampered-with slushie, earning him a trip to the hospital.

And Gay Face just had to ruin everything. As Sebastian ordered his third beer, he thought about Nude Erection's Michael Jackson performance. It had been a week since the event and the song was still fresh in his mind. As if sending that admittedly hot Latina chick to put him on blast wasn't enough, they had perform _another _song just to rub everything in.

_"Don't tell me you agree with me when I saw you kicking dirt in my eye..."_

Of course he would sing that line, just for Sebastian. And then he did that motion over his eye just to make him feel something.

Fucking asshole.

Then the Warblers had to get all inspired and shit and dance with those public school rejects, leaving Sebastian in the audience. The guys were _still _giving him shit as if they hadn't agreed to the slushie. Granted, they didn't know about the _rock salt _but that wasn't the point. They knew he was planning on dousing Prissy's clothes and they didn't have a single fuck to give. Sebastian doubted that any of them, except maybe a couple of Warblers, would have cared if it had been Kurt lying on the ground, crying over his Gucci purse or whatever the fuck! But no, Sebastian just _had _to hit Anderson in the face.

There was one unspoken rule with the Warblers and Sebastian had learned it very quickly: Don't fuck with Blaine Anderson.

Seriously, those Warblers had a hard-on for the guy. He was their god and they were his fucking disciples. And because he had hurt Blaine, he was public enemy number one for the time being. None of the guys would speak to him outside of practice. They wouldn't even look at him, save the occasions they decided to grace him with a dirty look. A couple of them even badmouthed him on Facebook!

Fucking hypocrites.

Was Anderson even worth all this bullshit?

Sure, Sebastian knew it was his fault, but it was so much more fun to blame someone else for everything going to shit. If only Pride Parade had let him tap Blaine's sweet ass _once_, none of this shit would have happened. They wouldn't even have to break up after, Sebastian decided. Blaine and the other guy could go and making gay babies and jizz rainbows all over each other for all he cared.

"Hey," a voice broke through Sebastian's musings.

Sebastian looked to his left to see the man whose ass he had been checking out earlier. He looked to be at least 21, tall and lean with chestnut brown and striking blue eyes. The man's lips curled into a smile.

"Sebastian Smythe. What can I do for you?" Sebastian drawled, his fourth (or was it his fifth) beer in hand.

The man winked. "You can let me suck your cock and then after maybe we can go to a hotel after for some, uh, _fun_," the guy replied, his eyes darkening.

Sebastian licked his lips, eying the mystery man up and down appreciatively, his eyes zoning in on the bulge forming at the front of the guy's pants.

"Happy to see me?" Sebastian asked, smirking as the man seemed to break out of his seduction mode, blushing slightly.

"Maybe," he replied in a soft voice, fluttering his eyelashes at Sebastian, biting his lower lip enticingly.

Sebastian grinned, grabbing the man forcefully by the wrist, dragging him to the women's bathroom (it was much cleaner and rarely used), palming himself through his pants. He leaned against the wall, forcing the brunette man down on his knees in front of him, unbuttoning his jeans and letting his already rock hard cock free.

"Oh my god," the man muttered to himself as he greedily eyed Sebastian's hard dick, licking his lips like a cliche porn star.

"Shut the fuck up and suck it, you little cock slut," Sebastian growled, all but forcing his cock into the man's mouth. Sebastian's head fell back against the cool tile, as he thrust into the stranger's mouth, hearing him gag but not caring. He looked down, enticed by the way the man's full, pink lips wrapped around his cock, the way his soft hands stroked the length that he couldn't take into his warm, moist mouth. The man looked up, his pupils dilated as he continued to suck and hum, expertly pleasuring Sebastian. The stranger caressed Sebastian's balls as he licked and sucked, bringing the boy closer and closer to climax until he finally came hard into his mouth, swallowing ever drop of warm cum with no problem.

He stood up, smirking at Sebastian. "You taste so good, baby."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "We're going to the hotel and you're driving. But, when we get there, the only thing I wanna hear from you is you telling me to fuck you harder. Got it?" Sebastian replied, avoiding the man's eyes.

He nodded, following Sebastian out of the bathroom and out to the parking lot where Sebastian's Porsche was parked. Normally he wouldn't let anyone dare touch his baby, but it must have been the alcohol. Fucking alcohol. Fucking Hummel making him drink like this with his stupid eyes and his stupid song.

_"Don't think about him. You're about to get a super fine piece of ass and you're gonna be happy about it."_

* * *

But four hours later, as he successfully managed to sneak out of the hotel room where his latest conquest was sleeping after a rather rough session, Sebastian still felt that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. And he still had that voice in the back of his head nagging at him.

And he still had the image of distressed, hurt, and angry blue eyes shining with tears at the back of his mind, slowly but surely coming to the front.

Fuck.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoyed my little story. I've had the idea nagging at me for a while and I hope it didn't suck. Review!**


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